The greenhouse air was still dewy with the quiet breath of dawn. Pale light filtered through the glass panels above, streaking across the mossy floor and mist-laced leaves. Jay sat quietly at the edge of the bench, her arms folded tightly over her chest, watching Venelope stretch and yawn as she pulled the rough woolen blanket from over her shoulders.
Venelope rubbed her eyes, squinting at Jay with a half-smile.
"So, tell me... what are you doing here? And at this hour?"
Jay looked at her with confusion, blinking like she'd forgotten she wasn't alone.
But then her eyes narrowed slightly. "First you tell me—why are you sleeping here?" She glanced around at the clutter: thermos, books, a pillow, notes scrawled in multiple notebooks, and a camping lantern sitting by the flowerbed.
Venelope chuckled, her voice lazy and unfazed. "I've been crashing here for a few nights. I'm observing something… part of a project I'm doing for Professor Myra. It's a botanical study—timed blooming cycles of hybrid nocturnals. They only bloom between 3 and 6 a.m., and they're so bloody temperamental they need someone practically breathing on them to behave."
Jay looked at her blankly.
Venelope shrugged, amused. "So here I am, breathing plants to life like some caffeine-deprived forest witch." She smirked. "Now, your turn. What's your excuse?"
Jay looked down and tugged at the seam of her shirt absently. "Nothing. I just felt like getting to class early."
Venelope's eyes narrowed. "Nope. Not buying it. You're always early, sure—but today it's too early. You showed up before even the cleaning staff, Jay." She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm. "What's going on?"
Jay hesitated, fingers still playing with the fabric of her shirt. Then she said softly, "My parents want to get me married."
Venelope's eyes widened, then she let out a loud gasp. "What?! Really?? Oh my God, Jay! I'm going to be a bridesmaid! I swear to God, I already have the perfect silver dress! Say yes. Okay? Say okay??" She bounced slightly on the bench in excitement.
Jay gave her a small smile, but her face didn't quite match the expression. Her lips curved upward, but her eyes were distant, confused.
Venelope stopped bouncing. Her smile faded.
"Wait… you're not happy," she said slowly. "You don't want to get married, do you?"
Jay looked at her, her expression crumpling like paper under too much weight. "It's not that, Venelope. I just… I don't know. I don't know what I want anymore." She buried her face in her hands.
Venelope watched her, unmoving for a moment, then slid her blanket off completely and sat upright. The atmosphere had shifted.
"Are they forcing you?" she asked, her voice quieter now, firmer.
Jay didn't respond.
One minute passed. Then two.
And then suddenly, like something cracked inside her, Jay's voice burst out—raw and shaking. "They want to marry me off to support the company!" Her hands dropped from her face, and her fingers curled into fists. "I'm being used, Venelope. Like a… like a bargaining chip. A token to keep the business alive."
Venelope sat still, eyes fixed on her.
Jay kept going. "My father told me—told me the other family approached them first. They already knew me. They targeted me. And now my parents think this is a solution. That it's fine. That I'll just go along because it's convenient for everyone else."
She stood up, pacing now.
"I mean, what kind of people are they, huh? What kind of freaks want to buy a girl through marriage negotiations? Who does that?!" Her voice cracked.
She spun toward Venelope, her chest rising and falling quickly. "And what if they're lying about helping the company? What if they're lying about protecting me? What if I end up in a stranger's house where no one cares what I think, and no one hears me again?"
Venelope didn't interrupt. She let Jay pour the pain out like a bottle that had been corked too tightly for too long.
Jay dropped back down beside her, breathless.
"I don't know what I want," she whispered again.
For a long while, the only sound in the greenhouse was the soft buzzing of the heat lamps and the creak of the wooden bench beneath them.
Then Venelope stood.
She walked over to her bag, pulled out her phone, and placed it down beside Jay. "If they're forcing you," she said steadily, "you can run away. Come with me."
Jay looked up slowly.
Venelope crouched beside her, serious now. "I have an apartment. It's tiny, but there's space. You can sleep on the couch or the floor or whatever. You don't need to explain yourself to anyone. You don't need to stay in a place that makes you feel owned."
Jay stared at her, eyes trembling.
"Venelope…" she said shakily. "Can I really come? I mean… can I actually leave my parents? Can I really disappoint them like that?"
Her voice broke as she said, "Can I run away? Can I get away from the guilt of leaving them alone? What if they collapse without me? What if I regret it?"
Venelope gently placed her hand over Jay's.
"Jay, you're your own person. You're not anyone's pawn. You can care about your parents and still say no to them. You're allowed to disagree. You're allowed to protect yourself. Respecting them doesn't mean destroying yourself for them."
Jay swallowed hard.
"I know," Venelope continued, "it feels like betrayal. But it's not. It's survival. You've spent so long trying to be the good daughter, the reasonable one, the quiet one. But if this breaks you—what's the point of all that quiet?"
Jay's throat ached. She turned her face away.
"I just want to think," she whispered. "But even my head… even my head isn't working."
Venelope's expression softened. She sat beside her again and rested her head on Jay's shoulder.
"Then don't think alone," she murmured. "Let me help you carry it."
Jay closed her eyes. A tear rolling down her eyes.
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